The Hours Until Infinity
by Lady Guinevere of Northgalis
Summary: UPDATED 5/25! Never open strange leather books hidden in huge old libraries... of Beth, a college freshman who wanted too much, and her encounters with the Goblin King and other people of the Fae. Please R&R this is my first fic! =)
1.

The Hours Until Infinity, by A.B.V.

**The Hours Until Infinity**

***~Lady Guinevere~***

**[the_court_of_miracles@yahoo.com][1]**

**Disclaimer: I own Jareth. He's mine forever! Mwa hahahahaaaa... no, just kidding. I thought it would be nice to own him, but thoughts of extra storage space for the goblins, chickens and latex entered my head, and I reconsidered. Anyways, my parents spent all their money on my college tuition and my brother's private school, and I emptied my bank account a long time ago. Don't sue me. I worship my Bowie shrine regularly.**

**Author's Note: This is my first Labyrinth fanfic and my first story on fanfiction.net! Please review me; my soul thrives on positive feedback *happy thought bubbles rising quickly*, and I will need a bunch of reviews to convince my insecure self to continue. You can flame if you want, I guess, but only medium flames; large ones will set my cramped, stuffy and sun-baked fourth-floor dorm ablaze =).**

**Prologue: Of Dreams, Nightmares, and Madness**   
  
  
  
  


**My sin is in dwelling on you**

**The minute I return to sanity**

**You choose to apppear**

**Yet every spare moment I'm awake**

**It's as if you're with me**

**Somewhere dark, someplace near.**

**Even with all thoughts answered**

**I have questions by the score**

**For you have haunted numerous days of mine**

**And now, it seems, you make to haunt me more.**

  
  
  
  


_It finds me in the night, searching, prying into my innermost thoughts, waking my senses, stirring within my body the shaking that pills do not drown, calling out and ringing a chord in my soul-_

Follow me... 

_That voice. My comfort and my pain all this time, so close and yet so far away from where I lie, huddled in my bed, clutching the clammy sheets, curled up, wondering if my screams have woken my roommate because I do not know when I am imagining things or living them._

_I am trying to forget._

_Even in my dreams the voice haunts me. I fall asleep in classes and during work. I must not fall asleep during work. I must stay awake in the stacks. I am never safe; he holds all the power._

_No one else checks their windows five times to make sure they're locked. No one else wonders about their sanity when they know they're sane._

_I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering which day it will be. Tomorrow? The day after? Or will it be tonight? It is the latter far too frequently, in my opinion. But then, he never bothers to ask me precisely what my opinions are. Just when I think I'm safe, halfway between this world and the one beyond, he is there, blending with the shadows, commanding._

_Of course, I have no choice. He takes me, spirits me away into the realm of darkness. Trapped in that other world, in those perfidious hands. In what I thought was merely fantasy. Until now._

_I want to forget. Forget everything._

_He won't let me._

_I am suffocating. My friends will not know why I live for the moment, taking in each and every stupid little thing, savoring meals and talking to my parents on my phone until the words run out._

_I do not look forward to new seasons or years; time has slowed down. In the spaces between moments of reality, I must be watching for him, and a flutter of dewy, pearled wings._

_I am haunted. Haunted by ghosts._   


   [1]: mailto:the_court_of_miracles@yahoo.com



	2. 

The Hours Until Infinity, by A.B.V.   
Disclaimer: see the prologue. 

Author's note: Please review me! Oh, and did I mention that this was an Evil Jareth story? =). 

**Chapter One: Curiosity Killed the Cat**

_Beth speaks:_

_It was just a play-a trilogy of plays, actually. No more than an old, thick, leather bound book with a simple golden inscription on the cover:_

**Apeiros**

_I hadn't learned any Greek at the time, and considered asking my professor of Latin. The absent knowledge of a title was inconsequential; the contents were in English. Considering that I was right in the middle of a busy work shift and twenty minutes behind when I found it, the smart thing to do would have involved returning it to the manager and finishing my current task, which was daunting if not incredibly tedious._

_Of course, I did otherwise. I actually had the stupidity to read them._

_I never should have opened that book._

_Can you hear me mentally bashing myself? It occurs quite often now ('Stupid idiot,' 'deserving moron' and 'delusional inquisitive head-case' all spring to mind). The price was far too high, but tell me, how was I to know? Books are the stuff of dreams, and we are all dreamers on occasion (or else we are very dull). Perhaps more important than even the book itself, however, was the building I found it in, the place where the dance of an interlude begins and ends..._

The Present. 

Most visitors and tourists thought it was the focal point of the university. Standing like an Ozymandian temple of stone amidst the crowded buildings of the city, the ancient monument of marble and glass sat regally on one side of the courtyard, opposite Memorial Church, whose foundations were probably even older. 

It was the shrine to the most avid scholars of the times, the biggest of its sort in the world, with the smallest number of patrons admitted. A repository for the genius of ages, silent landmark to the immortal scholars among the elite who had long since passed on beyond this brief existence, so vast a collection of literature it would take a lifetime to read. 

The girl, however, did not work at Widener Library for the prestige. She worked there to read. 

She also craved the darkness as much as she loved the light. 

Beth L'Esperance was another freshman, a wide-eyed sort of girl who surprised everyone with random bursts of sarcastic wit. It didn't help that she was dreamer as well as a perfectionist. The atmosphere of the university alone—the dim lights, long night hours—emphasized her makeup, pale skin, and brown-black hair. She was a china doll, walking around in an environment where the slightest emotional jarring would cause her to break and shatter into a thousand pieces. So people tread carefully. 

"Hi, Johnny." She swept by her supervisor, signing in, careful to mark the numbers of minutes over that she was late—seven—and threw her bag down to rush into the stacks, the rickety eighty-six year-old elevator creaking shut behind her. 

It was Thursday, one of the long evening shifts she always signed up for. No one came to the library then, there was barely ever any real work to do, and Beth could take as much time re-shelving books as she wanted. Simon always let her pick her job. 

Simon was a senior, working as a supervisor in the stacks division. He was Sherlock Holmes, only blond and with glasses. If Beth ever had the time to sit around with him, he concocted the funniest conversations. The best were with Alice, an ex-supervisor with chestnut hair, a full figure and a big smile that was notoriously contagious. Noise complaints from the sixth floor reading carrels were frequent in conjunction with her appearances. 

Neither was on duty yet. Beth looked at the quarter-full grouping shelves and the lone cart standing next to the clipboard, waiting for the next stacks employee to push it. Beth sighed. _Wow, this is going to be a long night._

8:45. It was pitch black outside. Most of the lights were turned off in the stacks, except for the fifth floor, where Beth had been for almost an hour. She felt alone without any lights on. 

Platforms of metal bookracks connected the walkways, row upon row, spanning ten floors in metal braces. Because of all the gaps of air space, she could hear people walking above or below her for several floors, footsteps thundering or beating quietly like the sound of a slow drum, increasing and then slowly fading away into nothingness. 

She shuddered involuntarily. 

Reaching up to place a copy of _Poe's Collected Works_ on a top shelf, Beth noticed something stuck between the metal racks. Walking around to the other side, she managed to wrench it free, and brought the object up to her face for inspection. 

A small red leather book, thick but surprisingly light, sat neatly between her two hands. The inscription on the front was indecipherable, but Beth turned opened the cover and easily translated the ancient words. 

_"Uni qui velit infinitas tenere ut vigiliam eorum sit."_ Her voice was a bemused murmur. "For the one who wishes to hold infinity in order that he might be the keeper of it." 

"Your remarkable skill with the Latin tongue does not pass unnoticed." 

Beth nearly screamed; the voice was so sudden. She spun around in the direction of the voice. Her eyes fixed upon the figure casually reclined across the windowsill. 

The man's age would have been possible to tell if it weren't for the childlike features that adorned a wizened, mischievous face. His clothes reminded her of a pastoral shepherd; the loose olive tunic fell carelessly over his russet breeches, partially covering slender arms that stretched lazily behind his head. Emerald eyes shone from beneath strands of dangling auburn curls, threatening to escape the cage that held them and dance around the air in mirth, as if he could mock the very essence of time if the occasion arose. 

White teeth flashed against the tan of his skin as he tossed her a grin. "I wouldn't read that, if I were you." 

The color slowly returned to Beth's face. She started to utter something, looked at his leather boots, and stopped. Several moments of silence passed between them. 

"Ignoring the fact that your attire is going to get you arrested by the campus police for popping a few too many," Beth enunciated slowly, "and that you just scared the living daylights out of me in an otherwise dead silent building…" she paused, lowering her voice, "Who _are_ you, anyway? And what do you want?" 

At this, he merely laughed, an echo like thousands of children gently assaulting her ears. "You may call me Peter," he finished, smiling enigmatically. "And I, Beth, am here to see _you."_

She started. "What for? Can I help you find anything?" She eyed him suspiciously when he didn't reply. "And how do you know my name? Are you even supposed to be in here? I need to see your ID." Her instincts rushed out in a burst of short sentences. 

"I don't have one." 

Beth began to get annoyed. "Please, don't make me call security. I don't want to bother. Frankly," she explained, "I'm tired, behind on my work, and you're creeping the hell out of me." 

He smiled. "So why not relax? Why this job? Why a mundane existence, searching for meaning among the yellowing pages of the past when the present is passing you by?" 

She threw her hands up in frustration. "Fine. Don't go. That's just _fine."_ She shook her head and turned back to the book cart. "Just don't distract me." 

"Distraction is only a point of view that we choose to make an amusement of. In your case," Peter jumped down and leaped —for that was the only word Beth could use to describe it— to the opposite end of the aisle, facing her again and leaning against the wall with a casual air of indifference, "I'd say that almost anything else would be more stimulating than this." 

"A comedian." Beth rolled her eyes. "Terrific." 

"Or perhaps memories are more to your taste," he said, retrieving a square black box from somewhere in the folds of his shirt, tossing it to and fro between his palms." 

Beth leaned her head slowly forward until it touched cold metal, squeezing her eyes shut. "I can't believe this," she groaned. "Why me?" 

He ignored her. "You know, I like you, Beth." Peter smirked, his eyes twinkling merrily. "You're funny." 

She put a hand to her head. _It's always the ones with tights and long hair…_

"That's why I'm giving you a gift." He lay the box down in front of her feet. 

She stared at it warily. _"You_ open it." 

He laughed. "I'm not the Unabomber, you know." Beth sighed and reached for the package, lifting off the black velvet top and reaching inside. 

It was a puzzle box, with panels on the front of it. A slide puzzle. She turned to check behind her, listening to see if anyone was nearby. The library was as silent as a tomb. Beth relaxed, her dark hair falling slightly in her face, a smile creeping at the corners of her mouth as she pushed the first piece into place. 

He stood there, quietly watching as she slowly moved the tiles into their rightful places. _This is the last one. The headaches and the searching are over. One more, and I'm giving up, no matter what Jareth says._ He let his gaze travel from her peasant shirt and jeans, to the Arthurian novels set aside on the bottom of the cart and back to resting on her face, the eyes wide and swimming with thoughts. _They never understand, thank the heavens for that. They'll all stay safe, and I'll go home…_

The little wooden box clicked. She opened it. And gasped. 

"What?" Peter asked disinterestedly. 

"Where did you find this? It looks exactly like— no, it _is!"_ Beth let out a little cry, and fit the object onto her thumb. 

It was a toy ring. Nothing fancy, simply a green ring made of hard, iridescent plastic, molded into the shape of a heart. Yet the reaction of both parties was nothing short of alarming. "I know this! It's the one I've had since I was little kid," she said, still astonished. "I know I left it at home, in a basket on my shelf. So how the heck did YOU end up with it?" Beth asked with an inquisitive stare. 

Peter took a step back, trembling. In those few moments, his entire countenance had changed. His face was ashen, his eyes flickered nervously, and there was an expression on his face, a curious mixture of astonishment, confusion, and…fear. _It can't be true…_ He finally found his voice. "You're not supposed to—" He tried again. "Where... where did you first see it?" 

Beth turned the trinket over and over again in her fingers, thinking hard. "I was four. It was a summer birthday party… I was at someone else's house, near the woods. We were dancing in a circle in the garden." She shook her head with a laugh. "It seems so silly, so trivial… 

"I never won any party games that I played. Ever. Everyone else always won something." Beth spoke quietly, lost in her thoughts, traveling back. "So I wished as we danced, harder than ever before, that I would win. Win a prize at the next game we played. The group went indoors to play "Duck, Duck, Goose," or "Musical Chairs," or something else like that. And I won. I won my ring." 

She turned back to Peter. "I remember, if only because it was one of the few times that I ever impressed my friends as a kid. I didn't win much at anything." Beth paused. "Why are you asking me this?" 

He was visibly shaking now. "Do you remember anything else about that day?" he asked urgently. "About people in particular. Did you meet anyone that day?" Beth just looked at him, confused. _She doesn't understand!_ He suddenly reached out, grabbing her shoulders forcefully. 

"Ouch! You're hurting me!" 

"Listen to me!" Peter cried. "This is important, Beth! Tell me if you met someone strange, someone different that day!" 

"Please let go—" 

"Tell me!" 

"I don't know! No one! Nobody! The clown who did tricks for us!" she spat out, desperately supplying an answer. 

"And?" Peter urged her. "What did he look like? Did he say anything to you?" 

"I don't remember!" she wailed, tugging at his vice-like grip. Her shoulders were beginning to ache. "I have no idea what he said. I…I liked his hair. It was long and blond and puffy, with glitter in it. I think he wore some makeup, but mostly on his eyes, and gloves. I do recall that he wore black gloves. But honest to God," she pleaded with him, "that's all I remember!" 

His heart plummeted. "Oh, no," he whispered. 

"What? What is it? Could you _please_ let me go?" 

Peter released her, staggering backwards, sitting down heavily on the windowsill, his head in his hands, groaning softly. "Oh, no." 

She rushed over to him. "What's wrong? What did I say?" 

He lifted his face and gazed at her. She was bright, innocent, and upset. 

And now he had doomed her to fate. 

He rubbed at his temples. Suddenly that old headache wasn't so far away after all. _If only I had quit early, I never would have returned here,_ he thought miserably. _She never would have had to suffer. She is wonderful, and I've destroyed her. And Jareth never would have known…_

Peter cleared his. Throat. "Only," he whispered, "that I wish it didn't have to be you." 

"I don't understand." 

He rubbed at his temples. "Never mind." He ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "What time is it?" 

"About nine. Ack! I have to get back to work!' Beth scrambled to her feet, picking up the discarded book. 

"No!" Peter reached out, knocking the book to the floor. "You shouldn't read that book. You have to burn it." 

"Are you crazy?" Beth protested. "I'm not going to burn this! It must be at least a hundred years old. Besides," she admonished, "it's a library book, for crying out loud!" 

"Please Beth." he entreated. "You have no idea what you're already in for. Don't add insult to injury." 

Beth folded her arms. "I'm NOT burning any books. Especially ones that are worth a fortune and belong to someone else." 

"So be it." Peter sighed, clenching his fists in frustration. "Then there are things I must explain. Tell me, Beth, are you familiar with the story of Persephone?" 

Just then the bells began to ring outside, slowly echoing over the courtyard. "I have to go," he realized out loud. "Now." Fumbling in his pocket, he drew out a long chain, with a single metal skeleton key on it. He extended his arm towards Beth, holding out the second mysterious object. "Take it. Wear it around your neck." 

Looking at him like he was absolutely insane, she obeyed, slipping the cool material over her hair. "What does this do?" 

He smiled wanly. "Opens doors." He clasped Beth's hand holding it tightly, and simply looked at her without speaking. There was an immense feeling of sadness and regret in the gesture; it emanated from his eyes. Beth started to speak. 

The sound of another cart rolling down the hall startled her, and the girl whipped around to straighten up her mess. When she looked up again, Peter was gone. "What…" 

She shook her head, not wanting to think about it. Sitting down on the floor after the cart passed by, Beth opened the red leather book once more. The pages in the first third of the book were a play of some sort, but the rest were… 

Blank. Empty. Except for a single page after the end of the play. It was a picture, an etching of a tall, regal building, with columns… She squinted to see what the words below the picture said. As the bells rang out their last hollow chord, the lights seemed to darken, and if one were to listen carefully in the silence that followed, a person could almost make out the sound of distant laughter. 


	3. Two - Fairy Tales and Goblin Kings

The Hours Until Infinity, by A.B.V.   
Disclaimer: See the prologue. 

Author's Note: For those of you who are are wondering, "Jareth?" Here you go. I write long stories, and the first two chapters were important lead-ins. Don't forget to review! Enjoy! 

**Chapter Two: Fairy Tales and Goblin Kings**

Jareth was laughing. 

Across the stretches of the Labyrinth and the city, gnomes, elves and faeries alike stopped what they were doing and listened. It was such an unfamiliar sound. Goblins cackled. Fireys often laughed- insane, maniacal fits of insanity that frightened away the wary visitor from the Dark Woods. But no one laughed like the Goblin King. And his majesty had not laughed since the day that the last girl, Sarah, had defeated him, and certainly not with a rich, satisfied undertone that said he had what he wanted in the palm of his hand. 

Until now. 

In the throne room of the Castle Beyond the Goblin City, the King was reclining on his throne. He had the appearance of entertaining himself in deep thought, and one might have mistaken his gaze for meditation, were it not for the crystal ball in his hand. 

He was looking at a young woman, more striking than simply pretty, pouring over a book. Incidentally, it was a rare copy of the one book that told of his existence on the earth, the book he had not written whose text he could not alter or unravel. Nor did he want to. Now Beth L'Esperance was reading it. 

He had finally found her. 

He rolled the ball into the folds of his cloak, as a shimmering space appeared before him in the pit. Moments later, a redheaded youth shimmered into view. 

"Ah, my humble servant, back from the dead." Jareth smiled, not moving to turn his head. "So, Pan, you finally succeeded. You must be in the thralls of a jubilant state I cannot possibly imagine." 

"Your Majesty." Pan's voice was dry and cold. "Glad to see you're rejoicing in your victory already." 

"How long did it take? I lose track of time in the human realm so often here." He smirked picking up his favorite riding crop and tapping it against the stone armrest, lost in thought. 

"Pan cleared his throat. "Fifteen years, missing without a trace. That is," he looked down, "until today." 

A grin slowly crept across Jareth's face. "Until today. Tell me," he leaned forward eagerly, a dark gleam in his eyes, "what is she like now? You met her." 

Pan stepped back, polishing a set of pipes on the sleeve. "Jareth, I do believe you seem more healthy, no, actually younger, if that's possible in an immortal. However did you manage that?" 

The Goblin King stood up and walked over to a mirror on the far wall, inspecting himself with a calm detachment. "It's part of the spell, I suppose. I choose her and give her the ring. When she remembers me again, I become her age." 

"You look her age, that's for sure. But you're still you." Pan paced the hall nervously. "Before I return to the other kingdom, I have a suggestion." He paused nervously. "Forget this girl." 

Jareth didn't even turn around. "Oh? And why should I do that?" 

"Beth's different. I think she fights her dreams. She's not overly deviant, gregarious, manipulative or cruel in any way. And she's lost her selfish streak. Somewhere along the road, Beth lost her pride. She's humble. I just don't think she'll appreciate you." 

The King shot him a warning look. "You don't have to list all my redeeming qualities at once. By all means, take your time." His voice was low and dangerous. 

Pan got the hint. "Sorry." 

"Is she stubborn?" 

"Oh, yes, but-" 

"The greater the challenge, the better. And her dreams?" 

"What of them?" Pan circumvented. 

Jareth tossed his hand impatiently. "All humans are imperfect. Beth has to have vices, and the more repressed they are, the darker the dreams." He strolled over to Pan, taking his time, the boots clicking slowly on the floor. "I need someone of intelligence as well, and lo and behold! Look at the way she surrounds herself with books." A crystal appeared floating and humming before them. 

"Now that my connection to her has been restored, I can explore," he continued, causing an image of her room to appear. "Tons of books. A prestigious university, if recall my run-in with Increase Mather correctly. Movies by the score, Renaissance clothes. It's all there. See all of the novels on Guinevere and Lancelot? She's a romantic. And romantics have such…delicious aspirations." Jareth smiled darkly. 

"But she's innocent." 

The Goblin King's head snapped around, and the crystal fell to the floor, shattering. Pan knew he had overstepped when Jareth grabbed his throat with lightning speed, slamming him into the wall and suspending him in mid-air. 

"What makes you think that doesn't turn me on to the idea even more?" he snarled. "Humans are fools. It's in their nature. They _deserve_ to be played with, even to suffer when we please. I have waited centuries too long for this, seen too many girls that disappointed me, trapped far too many souls here with nothing to do but abuse them until they bore me to death." 

He paused, a half-amused expression crossing his face as he regarded his mischief-bred counterpart. "You've fallen for her, haven't you?" Jareth laughed as Pan winced. "That's why you defend her. So, the prankster has a heart after all. Are the nymphs too dull for you?" 

"Of course not," Pan gasped, choking. "I am doing this job to humor you, nothing more." He regained his confidence and narrowed his eyes to slits. "I don't owe you any explanations." 

"Just be sure your interests stay objective," Jareth said coolly, releasing Pan, who rubbed his neck. "And one more thing..." He folded his arms and walked straight into Pan's gaze, stopping inches from his face. "If you so much as touch her hair, I'll make you wish you didn't have a thousand lifetimes left to live." 

The youth shrugged. "She won't like you." 

Jareth tilted his head. "I was walking through the woods, not thinking about anything. I sensed her immediately. So when I came to the clearing, I watched the children playing, dancing." He paused, lowering his voice. "I knew who she was right away. I could see her thoughts...her dreams. Do you know what it is to find new worlds opening before you- in your mind? If only she had possessed magic!" He gestured in the air, pleased with himself. 

"And she was so young! Barely a child...but I had to have her. She was the one. I invoked the laws of the Fae and granted her wish." He smirked. "It was too easy. But then something happened, and I lost her. I couldn't find her." Jareth grinned. "That's where _you_ came in, dear friend." 

Jareth spoke slowly, emphasizing every last word. "She's perfect. And she's going to be mine." 

  
  


Beth turned each page in fascination as she halfheartedly put on her coat and exited the library. The night air was warm, and it nuzzled her cheek, drawing her out from the world of Sarah, her brother Toby, and a mysterious Goblin King. She snapped out of her trance momentarily to cross the uneven Boston streets and to go back to her room. 

"Mary! Hey, Mary!" Beth bounded into the room, refusing to catch her breath. "I found the neatest old play at Widener today!" 

"Really?" Mary, her roommate, jumped up from the computer to look at the new treasure, her long blond hair flowing down her back as she stood over Beth's shoulder. Mary always reminded their of the Swiss Miss girl, only prettier. 

"It's bound with twine. Wow," she breathed, "This must be extremely old." 

Beth let her take the book over to her bed. "How medieval," she exclaimed, reading through bits of it. "Goblins, magic, mazes... plays are never this metaphysical!" She laughed. "Look at this passage! Ha! This is great! I wonder if this would sell onstage?" She showed Beth a couple specific pages. "Let's act it out. You're Toby, I'm Sarah. Then you can be the Goblin King." 

Beth rolled her eyes. "Terrific. The monologue. I'm always a boy in every play I'm in. Figures." 

"...But what no one knew was this: the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl and given her certain powers." Mary had already begun, so Beth sighed and played along. 

"One night, when the baby had been particularly nasty, the girl called on the goblins to help her." 

"Waah! Waah!" Beth mumbled unenthusiastically. 

Mary grinned at her. "With FEELING, Mrs. Toby, with feeling." Beth just rolled her eyes. 

"Oh, hell!" Beth exclaimed. "Can't just skip to the part when the kid's whisked away so I can have a decent speaking role?" 

"Fine, you don't have to get so pushy," Mary replied, feigning hurt. "Goblin King, Gobl- no, wait." She crept up to Beth, extending her arms like tentacles around her roommate's shoulders from behind. "I wish... the Goblins would come and take you away..." She grinned fiendishly. "...Right _now!"_

A huge crash of lightning sounded right outside their window, the thunder booming like a cannon. The lights went out, then back on, but Mary's room stayed pitch-black. They both screamed in unison. 

"Wow! That was so on cue!" Mary squealed. They spoke simultaneously, both thinking the same thing. "Like magic! Aaah! Jinx!" 

Mary won. "I'm running down to the basement to get a soda. You want one?" 

"Sure." 

The door slammed shut behind her. 

Beth picked up the discarded play, flipping through the pages. She noticed an illustration or two popping up amidst the play, and paused on one. 

The picture was of the Goblin King. He wore all black, glittering, and ornamental, like some otherworldly king would, Beth supposed. 

Beth smiled and flipped the pages again, stopping at an interesting scene, where Jareth, as the goblin Heggle-something-or-other had called him, was dancing with Sarah in a ballroom. She read on, amused. 

"Oh, Jareth!" Beth began to mimic Sarah. "I don't know what to think or feel." She danced around the room. "This is too cool." 

In the darkness of the room, Jareth smiled at Beth as she danced... 

"Your Majesty, " she exclaimed overdramatically, curtsying low. Only when she righted herself, her back ran against something warm and tall. The silk of someone's shirt. Beth recoiled in shock, spinning around. 

"My Queen." Jareth finished the line, his eyes glittering at her in the dark. 

She screamed. 


	4. Three - At last I've found you.

The Hours Until Infinity, by A.B.V.   
Disclaimer: See the prologue. 

Author's Note: Thank you so much to all who have reviewed me! You made my my day: Melissa D., Dawn, Lady Jara, nbakia, Shi Sensou, Wigg and Kitty! Kudos to you! I corrected some major copying mistakes in the prologue, sorry everyone who noticed. Please continue to review! Thanks! 

**Chapter Three: "At last I've found you."**

Moving more swiftly than was humanly possible, the Goblin King stepped behind Beth again and wrapped his arm over her face, covering her mouth with a gloved hand. "Now precious, is that any way to treat your poor neighbors when they're studying hard for a Chemistry exam?" He chuckled. "Let's go someplace a little less, shall we say, conspicuous, hmm?" 

Blackness closed over Beth's eyes and she felt a strange tingling sensation. When the haze lifted, she was standing under a huge tree in Radcliffe Yard, a graduate cluster of houses and a park that was good ten-minute walk from her dorm. It was deathly quiet. The few lights of the surrounding houses seemed far away, dimmed by the fog she stood in. Beth turned around in circles, confused and in shock. _Who was that?_ She could almost make out a shape in the shadows... 

Beth was sure she had seen a person in the bushes, but just as quickly, the shape was gone, fading against the darkened leaves. What the hell was going on? She was dreaming, hallucinating, but surely that spirit, voice or man hadn't been _real_... 

As if in response to her thoughts, the figure stepped out of nowhere. One minute it seemed a part of a tree, was the tree, and the next the cloaked spirit was as real and as tangible as anyone else, walking slowly and deliberately towards her with ease, as if it had all the time in the world. And for a moment the fog cleared a little, allowing the moonlight to illuminate the person in an ethereal aura of otherworldly splendor. As it threw back its hood with one gloved hand, allowing the air to sparkle with thousands of tiny flashes of light and filling the space between them with an infinite chorus of miniature bells, Beth finally had a decent glimpse of her pursuer. 

Long strands of shimmering, gold tresses fell in protesting rivulets to the breadth of his shoulders, scattered and incandescent. His skin, tan only in comparison with his hair, was smooth, unmarred by age or time, and brushed with a youthful color that knew the secrets of tantric delights. His dress rested somewhere between the modern Neo-Gothic style and the extravagance of the Renaissance period; the loose silk shirt she had brushed up against complemented the pants and leather boots he wore. He was dressed entirely in black, with ornamentation. 

Despite these curiosities, it was his eyes that captured Beth: immersed in depths none would know, the cool, shifting hues spoke of ice and wind meeting in a primitive dance, caging the smoldering fire that raged somewhere within. His stance gave him a regal countenance that demanded attention; every sinuous movement of his lithe body engaged his audience. But the luminous eyes alone promised rhapsody, the delights of never-ending dreams. He was perfection unrealized. 

Beth blinked. He was the exact image of the man in her book, perhaps younger in real life, but no less intimidating. 

"Well?" he asked, not a little amused at her bewildered state. 

"Who-_what_ are you?" Beth felt her throat constricting. 

He smiled. "I would have thought you'd have had me all figured out by now, my dear." She blushed at his referral to her stares. "I, of course, am the Goblin King, Ruler of the Labyrinth and the Kingdom of the Underworld. But you may call me Jareth." 

Beth regained some of her courage. "Very well, Jareth." She took a deep breath. "What the _hell_ am I doing out here, speaking to someone who doesn't exist, ten blocks from my room at 11pm at night?" 

Jareth laughed. "You know, I believe students used to recite Shakespeare in this garden." He slowly advanced on Beth, and she didn't even know she was retreating until she fell, quite startled, onto a stone bench in the shade of the grove. The Goblin King's words wove a magical spell as her enraptured her, if only for a moment, in the power of his speech, pacing with a smirk on his face: 

"A speedier course than ling'ring languishment 

Must we pursue, and I have found the path. 

My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand; 

There will the lovely Roman ladies troop. 

The forest walks are wide and spacious, 

And many unfrequented plots there are..." 

"Stop." Beth shivered. "That play was always so vulgar." She turned away. "Especially the comparison of Lavinia and Lucrece. It turned my stomach." 

"Lavinia was too proud of her victory," he cooed in her ear. "Some crimes cannot be avoided. But then," Jareth sighed, "time and Shakespeare make fools of us all." 

He was obscenely close for a stranger. Beth shied away, but he grabbed her wrist forcefully. "Let me go!" Beth cried. "I don't know who you are, but you need some serious counseling. You're hurting me!" 

"Not so fast, my ever-so pugnacious one," the Goblin King reprimanded. "You see, I believe you have something that belongs to me." 

Beth blinked in confusion. _What is he talking about?_

"Something close to my heart, an artifact more dear to me than you will know," he continued, inspecting the fingers of her right hand. "Ah! Here it is." He lifted the green plastic trinket off her finger and held it up. "The very same." 

"My birthday party favor?" Beth was astonished. She stood up. "Why is that so important to you?" 

Jareth closed his fingers slowly around the glowing piece of jewelry, gave a mysterious smile, and turned to grasp her left hand in one instantaneous gesture. "Actually, I lied," he whispered into her hair. "I'm pretty sure it will be of greater concern to you." 

Beth looked down as he dropped his hands and let out a small cry. Sitting on her ring finger was not the cheap imitation play jewelry she had known forever, but a beautiful emerald ring, set in pure gold and reflecting the moonlight as glass, its symmetrical depths untouched. 

Startled and scared, Beth desperately attempted to wrench the present free from her hand in vain. It was no use; the ring seemed absolutely immobile, fitting as if it had always been there in the first place. 

"What have you done!" she screamed, still yanking on the damnable object with her hands, jumping around in a panic, the futility of the gesture dawning on her as she hopped around in a dance of frustration, glaring at the Goblin King. "It won't come off!" 

Jareth had the mantle of victory sitting firmly on his shoulders, and he was grinning triumphantly, enjoying every moment of it. "I wouldn't bother trying to remove it, if I were you. The laws of the Faeries, once invoked, are irreversible, I'm afraid." 

Beth stood very still. "What do you mean?" A pause. "You're a Fairy?" 

Jareth practically snorted. "I'm a Fey," he correcting her condescendingly. "What did you expect- a human?" 

"Don't you remember, lovely Beth?" She watched, terrified, as he grew more impatient by the moment, his slightly British accent sounding in rich, lyrical tones, mocking her. "You wanted something you couldn't have. Many things. I satisfied you for a day, and promised you much, much more. Perhaps you will recall it with a little elucidation." 

As Beth's features slowly acquired a new state of growing horror, Jareth withdrew juggling balls from his pocket. Sounds of laughing children, haunted voices, drifted across the garden, floating down to reach Beth's ears. She could smell summer, see the flowers and the house again, knowing that someone was watching her from beyond the edge of the forest... 

She gulped and tried to say something, but the only sounds she could emit were little gasps of shock. The Goblin King continued with his show, performing tricks that she had seen only once before: he was animating puppets that appeared out of mid-air, transforming into a person she had barely met but knew nevertheless, lost somewhere deep inside of herself from so long ago... 

"You-" she managed to whisper, shaking as he conjured for her, smirking at her distress, enjoying her fear. "You were the clown at Amy's birthday party! The one that gave me the ring..." Beth trailed off. 

"Good girl," he replied, tossing the illusion away. "You're finally catching up. I've often wondered what you felt when you won your little game, the game that someone else should have beaten you at. I sincerely hope that you don't think you actually surpassed your peers one time in a million without help?" he grinned, satisfied at the indignant expression in her eyes. "Oh, dear." 

"You sick, cruel-" 

"Now, now, mortal one, I think the obscenities might wake the neighbors." 

"Shut up." 

He raised an eyebrow. "Feisty this evening, aren't we?" His tone changed abruptly. "And what happened next, Beth? What did I say to you when you won?" Jareth stepped quickly towards her, violently grabbing her arms in a vice-like grip, his eyes burning into hers, dark as hell. "Do you remember the exact, precise words I spoke? Shall I refresh your memory?" 

"I don't know!" She screamed. "They meant nothing to me!" She was sobbing. "Please don't-" 

He shook her, his words filled malice. "Nothing, eh? I bet they'll mean something to you now! I held up your precious ring and asked you whether you would give me something in return for it." He mocked her, spitting the words out. "And you, jumping up and down in that frilly white dress with your hair dangling down to your knees, said, "Oh, yes!" He imitated her in a high-pitched voice. "Then I gave my price." 

They were inches away from each other, Beth turning her face away from his viciousness and the words she never wanted to hear uttered again. Jareth grabbed her chin, tilting up her sight and making her look at him. "I asked if I could keep you! And do you know what your reply was, dear, sweet Beth?" Jareth grinned malignantly, eyes triumphant and imperious as they gleamed at her in the darkness. _"You said YES!"_

Beth slumped down as he released her, sitting on the grass, her body convulsing in desperate sobs. Jareth just stood there, silently watching. After a while, the sobs turned into hiccups, and she finally looked up. "Please…" she implored, her face streaked with tears. But he was as cold as stone, his face remorseless and devoid of any pity. 

"I didn't mean it." 

"It doesn't matter. What's said is said." 

"But I was just a little girl!" 

"Ha!" He hauled her roughly to her feet. "Look at me." She obeyed. "I have known, witnessed horrible things beyond your scope of comprehension. I have seen the worst nightmares imaginable come true and nearly kill everything I have ever felt. And I have seen thousands of you, your kind, who are born, and grow, and live, and die." He studied her, the hard lines on his face set. "You are not innocent. Because I know you." 

Beth shivered, trying to back away from him, her voice deadpan. "What do you plan on doing with me?" 

The Goblin King brightened as he smiled at her again. "Why dearest, I thought you would have guessed. His eyes looked her over, pleased with what they saw. "You are to be my queen. My wife. Don't you like your engagement ring?" 

Beth felt like she was going to be sick. 

His eyes were limpid pools of desire, sweeping up to her face as she stood there, weeping. "I have searched for you, your dreams beyond ages, beyond time. And I would wait forever again to have you." 

She did not reply, but instead looked frightened beyond words. 

"Tell you what," Jareth grinned, reveling in the moment as the implications hit home. "I'll give you a sporting chance. You play a game, as part of a bargain. I'll give you thirteen days to solve the puzzle in the library. Each day you find a clue and answer the question. You get more than half right and answer them all, and I'll let you go. Forever." 

Beth still wasn't moving. He leaned over to her, catching her waist and drawing her to him. "What's the matter?" Jareth whispered hungrily in her ear. "Don't _want_ to win your freedom?" 

Beth recoiled and jumped away. Something in her had changed, and she met his gaze levelly. "Of course I do." 

"Good. It starts tomorrow. That token around your neck, the one from that meddling forest pixie of a fairy, Pan. No, don't look at me like that. It will help you. And Beth," he said, starting to fade again and mingle with the shadows, "one more thing." 

"Yes?" 

He smiled darkly. "It's a big library. Don't get lost and make me have to come and rescue you, or I'll lose my temper." She shuddered. "Each night you fail, you'll be seeing me again early..." 

She was alone. Stumbling to the bench, Beth groped for air, for solid ground. She fell to the earth, heaving in dry fits until the nausea was gone. Somewhere in the mists, she knew he was still watching and heard the quiet words that echoed in the stillness of the night- 

_"At last I've found you..."_


	5. Four - Interludes

The Hours Until Infinity, by A.B.V.

Disclaimer: Jareth, the Labyrinth, and all related entities are not mine and not used for profit. All others, including my version of Pan, a mythological character and therefore not copyright, belong to me. ;-) 

Author's Note: I apologize for this taking so long, I've had finals and move-out, and I'm just catching my breath. Please continue to review me, I post faster with more feedback b/c I know you're reading! Thanks! =) 

**Chapter Four: Interludes**

Beth moaned and rolled over, grabbing for her alarm and wincing as it dropped to the floor, knowing the other two were still set in case she decided to doze off again. Mary could hear them through the door, and Mary woke up three hours later than she did. 

Rolling out from under the covers, Beth dropped to the floor to retrieve the all-purpose kitchen timer that interrupted sleep, thoughts and lives with an incredibly annoying little beep. _That's strange,_ she thought. _I don't remember what I did last night. Did I go home after work? Why can't I recollect anything after ten o'clock? How did I get home?_

Beth kneeled on the floor, covering her nose with her arm to prevent sneezing from the dust. She glanced under the bed. _Air cleaner, shoes, hairdryer, abused power strip...darn, I know it's down here..._

"Aha!" she gave a cry of triumph, retrieving the alarm and stopping the shrill noise it emitted. Beth put her hands on the wooden floor to lift herself up. 

Then she noticed her left hand. 

_No. Please, no._

It couldn't be. Yet there it was, the emerald ring, still wrapped around her fourth finger, still stuck tight, as bright as ever, shining fragments of heaven around the room as it hit the morning light. 

  
  
  


_"Well?"_

Jareth was more impatient than ever before. The entire castle was clean and practically goblin-free, save for the few useful ones that showed sparks of intelligence once in a while. Now it was the turn of the hired help. Pan had disappeared to Heaven-knew-where, and his "volunteers" were incapable of interior decorating. 

Luckily for them, the Goblin King proved lenient. He didn't kill them on the spot. 

"Listen to me," he spoke with a deadly calm in his voice, "and listen well. The Ballroom and Throne Room sketches are on the table. If every detail isn't perfectly executed in manner that suits me, I will personally dip each and every one of your heads in the Bog of Eternal Stench and throw them into an oubliette with a Boink's detached members. You know what Boinks do in prisons, don't you?" He smiled, dropping the quivering elf to the floor. "Good. Have them done in two days." 

Jareth transported himself to his bedroom and walked up to a gilded window, letting the glass panels swing open in the light breeze. He leaned out regally, surveying his view as a lion does its pride lands. 

The land to the west grew in wilder, uncontrolled branches and vines, twisting and crippling the paths of the Labyrinth until it turned into the Dark Forest of Avalon, Kingdom of the Fae and the first of the two main kingdoms in the Underground. To the east, the maze faded away into a bleak, lifeless plain. Rumbling storm clouds were discernable in the distance. 

The Goblin King sighed. So much energy wasted. She would have much work to do, many new places to create... 

He smiled, satisfaction washing over his features as he fastened the locks on the window and spun around. 

If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine her in the room with him, whispering warmly in his ear, embracing him so that he knew why he wanted her. Her touch, the taste of her mouth, her lips on his, the feel of her body pressed against him. Beneath him. 

Jareth look at the richly decorated gold and black bed, touching it with one gloved hand. He knew exactly whom he wanted there, tumbling beneath the silk sheets, calling out for him. The whispers were always with him, growing quietly, driving him mad with waiting, making him feel as if he would explode with impatience if could not touch her, have her completely... 

_Beth..._

The Goblin King grinned, putting a hand to his head. He needed a cold shower. There was time enough to live out everything he could imagine. 

None of it mattered at all anymore. The transitory pleasures he took in other women, the bitterness of losing, the lifetimes of loneliness and illusions, the years of frustration, fifteen years of not knowing whether he would ever find her again- they were all gone, wiped away, forgotten forever. He laughed to himself. _If only lust and revenge always came with complimentary gift-wrap._

She would lose. He would see to that. Then she would be his forever, to do with as he pleased. 

Whether she wanted to or not. 

  
  
  


Back and forth, back and forth... 

The specific act was one that would have annoyed almost anybody, a restless motion of frantic thoughts, hurried planning and flourishes of exasperation as the figure tossed on idea into the air, letting it fall out of sight the next. His feet ran in tired circles, over and over again. 

Only the two feet were in the air the entire time. 

The fey was pacing, shaking the tangles of red hair out of his face, his green eyes an unusually somber tone, something akin to worry passing across his face briefly before he shoved it away again, then allowed it to return with a vengeance. 

"Didn't sleep, cousin?" 

At the imperious, calm tone of the voice, Pan ceased his restless movements, not bothering to turn around. He sighed. "Not much," he admitted, smiling wryly. He disappeared, only to materialize on a ledge near a large bay window. "You don't miss anything, do you, Adair?" 

The other youth was sprawled across one of the many piles of luxurious cushions scattered around the great hall of Avalon Castle, home of the Fae Court. The figure seemed unfazed by his opulent surroundings, dwelling peacefully in the languor that surrounded him like a cloud. He was tall, his lithe form stretching with the tingling airs of boredom, perhaps weariness, face obscured by the hood of a long velvet cloak the color of the evening sky. 

He shrugged. "Not much." 

"Funny." 

"It seems to be your answer to everything I ask these days. Why can't it be mine?" 

"Fair enough," Pan admitted. "I _have_ had a lot on my mind..." 

"Really." The cloaked Adair casually rose to a sitting position. If his interest in the fairy of Mirth had increased significantly, he didn't show it. 

Pan sighed inadvertently, tracing the woodwork beside him with his finger. "A long time ago, I lost a bet, a personal, binding gamble to the Goblin King. There was a loophole in the contract, and I ended up indebted to him...interminably, that is. I've helped him torment humans ever since." 

"An added bonus to the job, naturally." 

The redhead rolled his eyes. "Naturally. Not that I've ever had a problem with _that_ particular diversion. Some assignments were less than pleasant, but who am I to question the motives? 

"Low profile, high entertainment factor. No one could blame me if I got a little carried away and enjoyed myself. I helped him write history in his books by finding victims. They ran the Labyrinth. The rest of that nonsense is self-explanatory. 

Pan clenched his fists together. "A short while ago, however, Jareth became obsessed, no, _unhealthily_ obsessed with possessing this child, this girl. It was so disturbing that I reordered a few spells and gave her the gift of Illusion." 

Adair nodded. "So what happened?" 

The fey looked down at his hands. He had squeezed them so hard that they were turning white. "He never found her. If he had discovered what I had done, I would be finished. The girl stayed safe, though, thank goodness. She grew up, safe from harm. Unfortunately, Jareth had just had a bout with a rather impudent young woman at the time, and was very moody, insisting that he would always fail to make anyone love him, want to stay because he had found her. The child. 

"I searched for her, albeit halfheartedly, ever since that day, at his command. She would find the book someday, he promised. The Goblin King had made sure of that. And there were only a few copies left. I had the girls who failed the test destroy the books, a painful but unavoidable precaution. The last time I checked, there was only one left." 

"Where was it?" 

Pan shook his head, amused. "At Harvard University, of all places. I wish you had been there, Adair, watching the place grow from a bunch of rotting log cabins that served as divinity schools into a monumental institution. I was never worried, though. No one there has the time or the desire to read fantasy, right?" 

"Ha!" 

"Exactly. The unthinkable happens. My final assignment, and I find her. She just puts the ring on, and Jareth can see her again. Heaven knows what will happen to her now." 

Adair sighed. "Disturbing. That's fate, though." 

Pan rubbed his eyes wearily. "She's doomed, and it's all my fault." 

"Maybe. You were only doing your job. Time doesn't wait for them like it does for us. You have to forget about her and move on." 

He threw his hands in the air. "As if I wouldn't if I could!" Pan exclaimed bitterly. "It's different this time. I cannot conquer the guilt that's tearing me apart, eating away at my soul. I didn't think I would care for anyone, any of them." He exhaled slowly, slumping slightly on the ledge. "But then, I never was a good judge of leanings of the heart..." 

A smile crept out from under Adair's hood. "Could it be," the fey mused, rubbing his chin, "that the great, immortal Pan has finally grown a conscience?" 

"You'd understand what I meant if you met her." 

Adair's tone was thoughtful. "Perhaps I will. You need some form of assistance, or you're going to have some dreadful migraines in the near future." 

Pan laughed, brightening considerably. "Thank you. So tell me, what in the name of Eden are you doing lounging around here, dressed like what I would call, "Little Red Riding Hood meets cross-dresser?" 

"You always did spend too much time on earth," Adair mumbled, burying his face in a pillow. "Anonymity." 

"Ah. Crowd control." 

"Whatever." 

Suffering his gaze to travel out the window and over the forests that lay beyond, Pan asked cautiously, "I hope this doesn't have anything to do with The Night of Ten Thousand Joys..." he paused, receiving no answer. "Adair?" 

A nonchalant reply. "It might." 

The earth fairy threw his hands up in frustration. "For Luna's sake, just pick someone already! I've never seen someone so indecisive about choosing a girl." He ticked off a bunch of fingers on one hand. "You have to do this, for certain reasons obvious to both you and me. One. You need someone else to carry half of the burden your parents so generously bestowed on your head. Two. It's going to happen at some point, so that point might as well be now. Three. You have no excuse of a shortage, and even if you did, you could always steal from Jareth's collection." The other snorted. "Five. In all honesty, you really don't have a choice. Do it now, or have your aunt do it for you. And might I add, if you know Aunt Demeter half as well as I do, you'll understand the logic in acting now." 

Adair sighed. "I _suppose_ I could make the rounds again...but helping you sounds far more exciting and distracting to me." 

"Oh, I almost forgot," Pan added gleefully. "You're always lonely and moping about. Not to mention a dark, brooding grouch." 

He ducked just in time to escape the pillow. 

  
  
  


The day passed by in a blur. Beth couldn't concentrate. All she wanted to do during the entire Latin lecture on partitive genitives and datives of purpose was to go home and cry. 

Lunch was worse. They had barbecue beef tips and tater-tots, one of the few decent meal combinations encountered in upperclassmen menus, and she couldn't eat. Beth looked out the big glass windows of the Lowell House dining hall, watching a couple play Frisbee. _Do the thirteen days start today if I haven't had any clues?_

"Beth!" Mary whispered loudly. "What's wrong? Eat! It's food! Pretend it's like the Last Supper or something. I've looked at the printout schedule, and believe me, the meats all go downhill from here." 

Beth almost smiled. Just then, their friend Jory, the knight-in-shining-armor who lived next door, sat down with them. "Hey, girls," he smiled. "Up for a good time tonight?" 

"Huh?" Mary asked. 

"Clubbing. It's Friday! You know, Hell Night at ManRay. We usually don't get a group this big. You both should come." 

Beth desperately needed a distraction. Clubbing was a decent, if merely temporary, solution. "I don't have anything to wear," she said as an afterthought, pouting at the thought of her Goth-less wardrobe. While Jory was heavily into wearing black and "expressing himself artistically," as Mary liked to put it, Goth clubbing was an alternative lifestyle for a night that Beth accepted but never took seriously. 

"Shopping trip!" Mary squealed. "That's it. We absolutely _have_ to go to Hubba-Hubba and get you an outfit. It's not open for discussion." 

Jory looked at Beth apologetically. She shrugged and smiled. 

A quick ride on the T and the girls were at the doors of the shop. Most of the outfits involved leather, shiny material or the color black. "You know," Mary quipped as they tried on dresses in adjacent fitting rooms, "My ex bought me my red dress here. I still can't get over that thing." 

"And I've been jealous of you from the start," Beth retorted. "I'm coming out, so you'd better be ready to rate me." 

They both stepped out of the cubicles. Mary gasped. "I don't think I've ever seen you exposing that much skin before," she finally said in a quiet voice. 

The dress was black with a red rose-patterned bodice that fit snuggly around her waist. The skirt stretched sown to the floor, revealing long slits in the sides. But it was the low-cut top that caught most of the attention, highlighting curves and extending off the shoulders to the draped, slit sleeves. 

Beth cringed. "Does it look bad?" 

"No." 

Mary spent a good half an hour trying on outfits and finally deciding that her old one was as good as any. Beth paid for the outfit while Mary was occupied with the interesting devices they sold at the counter. 

"Come on, Mer!" Beth tugged at her friend's sleeve, rolling her eyes. "Shop for sex toys on your lunch breaks. We have to get back." 

"Be that way," Mary smirked. "Oh, I almost forgot to ask you. Where 'd you get the ring?" 

  


Far away, the image of the girls walking down the street, deep in conversation, floated eerily in the distorted space of a crystal ball. Jareth turned the image back and forth. "Watch out, Beth," he warned, smiling wickedly. "You've wandered right into the palm of my hand." 

  


  


--<--<@

  


**Hope you enjoyed that. If you want to know what a Boink is, either read the Goblin Companion by Brian Froud / Terry Jones, or email me, although you probably got the gist of it right anyway (heh heh heh)...** 


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